write you a tragedy
by Hecate's Rath
Summary: Five times Andromeda saw herself reflected in Augusta Longbottom.


Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything you recognize. All I own are too many thoughts in my head that need a way out.

* * *

_The first time Andromeda brings Teddy home, she can't help but think of when she saw Augusta Longbottom after the first war ended, after Alice and Frank had been worse-than-murdered. She looked lost—small, and slightly hopeless, in a way Augusta had never looked hopeless._

_ (Augusta is not the kind of woman who _ever_ looks hopeless. She is one of those fierce people, a Gryffindor to her very bones, protective and brave and bright and brash.)_

_ She did not look like Augusta, not the Augusta Andromeda remembered, carrying around the grandson she just didn't know what to do with._

Teddy cries for three days (and nights) straight.

When he was born, Andromeda marveled at how _perfect_ he was, how incredibly tiny and perfect and beautiful he was, so much like her Nymphadora. She didn't think she was ready to be a grandmother until she held him, and then it felt right.

But Andromeda is not ready to be a mother again, and this has been thrust upon her so suddenly, she feels like she can't breathe.

Teddy is screaming screaming screaming and Andromeda feels like doing the same, yearns to do the same, because this isn't fair.

She didn't ask for this. Not that anyone did, but Andromeda wasn't a part of the Order. She didn't want any of this, hoped that staying neutral in this war she'd avoid the casualties. Neutrality has saved her life, and lost her the reason to live it.

Teddy is all she has left.

She holds him, her screaming grandbaby, and cries.

* * *

_The second time Andromeda saw Augusta, she was taking Nymphadora shopping for school. Augusta was leading a three year old Neville around Diagon Alley,_ _still sad, but proud and strong, chin up and dressed to the nines. It takes Andromeda's breath away, just for a minute, to see Augusta with Frank's miniature. There is something so, so wrong about the picture—it doesn't fit, like robes a size too big or shoes a size too small. Appropriate for societal consumption, but only just, and uncomfortable, painful._

When Teddy is three years old, Andromeda lets Harry take him for his first overnight.

To be honest, Andromeda needs a break, after three years of looking into Nympadora's eyes every night, and missing her daughter, her husband. She is the piece that doesn't fit, jagged and broken, mashed together with a grandson who could be Nymphadora so many years ago. One black sock and one navy one—barely appropriate.

She packs his bag neatly and sends it with Harry, warning the twenty-one year old that he'd better be careful, or she'd have his wand.

Harry ducks his head and nods, and Andromeda wonders if Teddy will turn out half as good as he did.

* * *

_Andromeda glimpsed Neville and his grandmother shopping for school while she was at the Apothecary. He looks so much like Frank it gives her pause—and she cannot imagine what Augusta must be feeling. To raise the same son twice, with no guarantee of a happier ending this time around. The one thing Neville lacks is Frank's cocky arrogance. He carries himself more like Alice did before she grew into her Hufflepuff kindness—if timid were a person, it would be Alice, before she went to Hogwarts, before she grew into a strong, kind, fiercely protective and loyal person, before she fell in love with bright red brash Frank. Neville is his mother's son, though his looks are all Frank's._

Harry takes Teddy to Diagon Alley to go shopping for school. Teddy is so much like Nymphadora it hurts. There is no mercy for Andromeda, it seems. Saddled with a grandchild she didn't fall in love with until the last possible second, a grandson who is her daughter incarnate. It would be easier, Andromeda thinks, so much easier if Teddy took after Remus, but he is so much Nymphadora, from the ever-changing color of his hair to his two left feet.

Perhaps it is only because Andromeda spent every moment she had with Nymphadora marveling over her features, but she can pick those same features in Teddy. Sure, Remus owns his nose and chin, but he is clearly Nymphadora's child and that _hurts_. It is no pleasant thing to have a living breathing reminder around all the time that her daughter, her only daughter, her _baby_, is dead dead dead.

He is sorted into Hufflepuff, but Andromeda is not suprirsed. Teddy is more his mother's badger than his father's lion.

* * *

_The next time Andromeda saw Neville was after the Final Battle, getting his burns treated. _That_ was when Andromeda saw Frank shining through every inch of Neville—a Gryffindor hero through and through, gone down in a blaze of Andromeda can think of is poor Augusta, reliving her son's demise over and over and over again, torn between pride and pain._

Seventeen looks good on Teddy. He is the mix of his parents Andromeda so prayed for when he was younger, something to take the edge off of having Nymphadora haunting her. The Remus part of him took just a few years more to grow into the Teddy before her.

He is graduating today, and he smooths his robes in the mirror in the old house.

"What do you think, Nan?" he asks, switching his hair color so fast Andromeda's stomach cramps and she misses Nymphadora more than ever.

It takes her a minute to reply—she has to fight the bile down, fight the sobs clawing at her throat, making her lungs burn. She is so scared to open her mouth for just a second, afraid that all of the years of holding back tears and screams and _it's just not fair_ will come pouring out in one awful, horrible moment. The moment passes and Andromeda takes a deep breath.

"You look handsome, Teddy," she whispers, her eyes welling. "My handsome boy."

* * *

_ Augusta dies the Spring they celebrate their first year of Victory. Andromeda attends the funeral and watches Neville. He is Frank and Alice both again, Alice's gentle spirit, and Frank's bright red bravery, an arm wrapped around the Abbot girl. She brings Teddy along, clutching him so tightly he squirms and whines uncomfortably. Is this her future? Buried by her grandson to finally, finally, finally join the people she lost so long ago? Those wounds are still new and fresh, though, to Andromeda. Her daughter, her husband, her sisters—those losses sting in the sunlight. She lets the other mourners think her tears are for Augusta, but she cries for herself._

It is with no small amount of joy that Andromeda welcomes the warm white light. With it comes Ted and Nymphadora and she feels complete again. The 25 years without them felt twice as long. Teddy will be—is—fine, and Andromeda is so, so tired.

Her reunion with her husband and her daughter is 25 years late, and, though she is grateful for her grandson, though she loves him more than she ever thought she would, this wound never healed, still bright pink and stinging in the light.

Andromeda dies relatively young for a witch, but, as Teddy tells the mourners, her heartache aged her beyond her years, and this day is more of a celebration than a reason to cry.

They lay her to rest next to her husband and her daughter, this unwilling hero and last-second grandmother, another of Voldemort's tragedies, put to rest 25 years late.

* * *

AN: Title from the F. Scott Fitzgerald quote "Show me a hero and I will write you a tragedy."

Am I the only one who drew parallels between Andromeda and Augusta? Leave me your thoughts, if you have any to spare. Thanks for reading!


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